


Coexisting With Nature

by dearjoanwallace



Category: Red Hot Chili Peppers (Band)
Genre: Action/Adventure, Gen, Hiking
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-04-10
Updated: 2017-04-10
Packaged: 2018-10-17 08:53:52
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 5,481
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10590621
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dearjoanwallace/pseuds/dearjoanwallace
Summary: Our heroes go on a hiking adventure, one that they won't soon forget.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Coexisting With Nature 
> 
> by Kellyanne Lynch  
> 6 May 2001, 12:30 PM - 8 May 2001, 2:50 AM
> 
> Disclaimer: This story is a product of a strange manufacturing plant, (not vegetable), called my brain. The Red Hot Chili Peppers are characters in this tale, but I do not own them, call them, stalk them, or even know people who look like them. The purpose of this story is to entertain, and to distract myself from upcoming finals. Oh joy. This goes out to my Chili Pepper support team, Chewable Morphine and Fastfood Junkie. You guys make me want to write RHCP fanfic 24/7! ROCK ON!!! Peace, Love, and Chili Peppers!
> 
> Summary: Our heroes go on a hiking adventure, one that they won't soon forget.
> 
> Recommended Reading: I suggest that you read "Fight Like A Brave" by Fastfood Junkie before you read this story. This story takes place after that adventure. I make a few references back to it, and those parts will not make sense without having read FFJ's story first. Besides, it is an excellent read. So go away and come back when you've read it!!!
> 
> Rating: PG
> 
> Please e-mail with questions, comments, theories, complaints, or words of wisdom.

Flea tumbled down the incline, head over feet, before his back slammed into a pair of legs.

"Oof!"

His cerulean eyes wide, he gazed up sheepishly at the owner of the legs. Who snickered.

"That was intelligence!" Anthony chuckled. "Right there, Flea! So do you STILL say you'll be the first one up the mountain?"

John stepped forward, extending a hand to his fallen band mate. "You okay?" he asked.

Pain swept across the back of Flea's head, felt like it was on fire.

"Fine," he replied, taking John's hand and getting to his feet. He wiped the dust off his gray flannel shirt and his jeans. Then gazed up the mountain path. Trees surrounded the men on either side of the pathway, limbs stretching, broad leaves waving as they surfed breezes. Flea took in a deep breath, inhaling flower scents mixed with trees and...

"Damn, Chad, do you smell!" Flea turned to his friend, who was sitting on a boulder to his right. Beads of perspiration dotted Chad's upper lip, his nose, and his forehead. He swiped his forehead and narrowed his eyes at Flea.

"These are the mountains!" he huffed. "I am allowed to smell!"

Some manner of bird screeched in the distance. Flea stared skyward, just in time to see a hawk swoop overhead. He smiled.

"Not much further 'til we reach the top," Anthony commented, taking a swig from his water bottle. A contented sigh slipped from his lips as he lowered the bottle.

Midchug, Chad furrowed his eyebrows. He drew his own water bottle to his side. "How do you know that? Or is this a guess?"

Anthony scratched his midsection, under the flannel sleeves tied around his waist. Pointing up the path, he replied, "The trees are getting shorter; that's a good indication."

"Oh," Chad breathed, and sucked down more water.

"Ah, I'd conserve if I were you," John's dark eyes watched his friend. "You remember our last adventure, don't you?"

Chad swallowed and set down the bottle. "Yeah, but this ain't the desert, and I brought a water filter this time!" He patted the external frame pack by his left knee and took up his water again.

John shrugged, kicking gravel. Pebbles skipped down the pathway.

"So, if we're almost there, why are we stopped?" Lines creased Flea's forehead.

Flinging a finger in Chad's direction, Anthony said, "Hey, don't you see the man needs a rest?"

Chad looked around. "No, I'm ready. We can go." He flung the water bottle in his bag and buckled down the straps. He got to his feet. John grabbed the bag and helped Chad get it onto his back.

The sun shimmered through the spaces in the leaves, tiny rays of light apparent. They striped the packs and bodies of the four as they ascended the trail, toward the incline from which Flea had fallen.

Anthony took it at a running jump. He landed halfway up the incline, grabbing a tree root before he lost any footing. Heaving a deep breath, he pulled the root. The frame pack on his back jiggled. The muscles in his bare arms tightened, tendons appearing through them. Anthony climbed the root and reached the top of the incline. Gazing down at his friends, he panted and smiled.

"Show off," Flea grunted, stepping back several paces. He ran, jumped, reached for Anthony's root. But his hand slapped down a full foot shy of its mark...

And grabbed hold of a hand instead.

"I gotcha," Anthony spoke through clenched teeth. But, as Anthony voiced this reassurance, Flea's grip loosened and squeezed Anthony's fingers.

"Aah!" Anthony cried out but did not retract his hand.

Flea's legs flailed about, seeking footing, when his left boot dug into a soft, unstable surface. He glanced over his shoulder.

"Just climb!" Chad gritted his teeth, pushing his friend's foot. Flea thrust himself forward, his right hand latching onto Anthony's upper arm. He climbed it.

"I didn't say you could climb me," Anthony mumbled, wiggling his fingers. He sat back on the gravel behind him.

John wandered into the clearing. Anthony and Flea just stared at him.

"How the hell did you get up here?" Flea's mouth dropped open, and he sat back.

John pointed behind him. "There was an easier way, right over there, with lots of rocks..."

Anthony and Flea each slapped their foreheads.

"Is somebody going to give me a hand?" a voice strained from the incline. The three looked over and saw Chad hanging onto the root. "Like today? Today would be nice."

John grabbed Chad's wrist, and Flea reached for his friend's other hand. Chad latched onto both helping hands, which pulled him to the top.

"John found an easier way, buddy," Anthony informed him.

Chad shot daggers at John. "And you couldn't tell me when we were both still down there?" He thrust a thumb over his shoulder. John shrugged.

"Hey!" Flea exclaimed. The other three turned to him, watching him run up the trail. "We're almost there! Race ya!"

John, Anthony, and Chad took turns glancing at one another before taking off after Flea. Trees that they passed shrunk until there were none. Their feet plodded off dirt, onto stone, as the sun shone in every direction, unfiltered.

Anthony reached the summit just seconds before his friends. Flinging his frame pack to the ground, he exclaimed, "Yes! I am the king of the...Oof!"

Flea barreled into Anthony's midsection. The two toppled to the ground, laughing and smacking each other.

John and Chad slipped their bags off their shoulders. Their hair danced on their heads as wind swept over them, cooling their heated bodies. Chad smiled and sat down. John gazed out at the world, at rolling green textures of forests. Mountains towered over the miniature trees, shading ones closest to them. Closing his eyes, John breathed in the breeze of... there was no other way to describe it. Of pure nature.

An arm slammed into the back of his knees, and John tumbled onto Anthony and Flea.

"Hey!" Anthony's muffled voice exclaimed. "John, your ass is in my face!"

"I can't get up!" John cried. "Somebody's holding my arms!" His hands scanned the ground beneath him, slapping human flesh.

"Ow!" Flea howled. "Chad! Help!"

Chad hopped to his feet and peeled apart his friends. He chuckled to himself as he sat back down.

"I don't think it's funny," Flea sulked, rubbing his nose.

Anthony flopped down beside Chad and opened his frame pack. "You started the whole thing!" Platinum blond strands slipped over his eyes as he dug around in his pack, and he flipped them to the side. "We should eat."

"Yeah," John smiled. "No better place to eat than on a mountain top." He pulled his bag closer to himself and unlatched the top flap.

Flea bit into his sandwich. "How much longer 'til we set up camp?" Chunks of chewed-up bread showered out of his mouth, splattering on Anthony's jeans.

"That's... that's just lovely, dear," Anthony commented as he wiped off the crumbs with a serviette. "Appreciate it."

John glanced over at the glowing hands on Chad's wristwatch. "It's three o'clock now," he announced, then took a swig of water. Setting the bottle beside him, he added, "We should set up our camp before it gets dark."

"Which'll be around five-thirty," Chad spoke through a mouthful of sandwich, but he did not share. "Not too long from now."

Flea nodded and took another bite out of his sandwich.

The sky was so blue. John couldn't get over how the sky looked without a film of smog. He lay back and stared up at the sky.

"John, aren't you going to eat?" Anthony asked, nudging his foot into his friend's side.

John shook his head. He watched as clouds floated across his field of vision, how almost cartoon-like their perfection was. So brilliantly white that John had to squint to look at them. They made shapes. Most just looked like fluffy mattresses, but others took the form of submarines, giraffes, flowers, and guitars. John smiled. His eyelids drooped, and his mind slipped into the clouds.

"Hey, we gotta get going!"

John's eyes fluttered open and watched Anthony crumpling tin foil into a ball. Flea and Chad stood beside him, their frame packs in place.

Anthony tossed the foil into his bag. "John, you awake?"

John nodded, and he rolled onto his knees. He took a swig from his water bottle before repacking it. Chad helped John slip his pack on, and the two followed Anthony and Flea off the mountaintop.


	2. Chapter 2

The other side of the summit was steeper. Flea led the group, stepping sideways.

Chad watched as Flea, Anthony, and John took careful side steps down the incline. Shrugging, he sat down and took off his pack.

John glanced over his shoulder. "What are you doing?"

Chad smiled. "Slide!" he pushed the pack down the incline, then slid down it on his backside. "Whee!"

Anthony and Flea watched as Chad shot past them. They glanced at each other, then up at John. The three sat down and shoved their bags before themselves down the incline.

John flew past Anthony and caught up with Flea. The two landed in the dust at the same time.

Anthony was sliding along when he spotted a root. It stuck out of the stone in a loop shape. He shifted to his right. But his foot jammed into the root. The rest of his body kept sliding, tearing at his hindered left leg to join it.

CRACK!

"Aah!" Anthony cried out.

"Anthony!" Flea scrambled up the incline, John and Chad directly behind him. Flea untied Anthony's boot. The foot slipped free, and Anthony fell into John and Chad. The three crashed into the ground beneath them. Dust flew in every direction.

Flea slid back down the incline, where John and Chad were propping up Anthony, against the rocky base of the incline. Chad pulled off Anthony's sock.

"Ooh!" slipped from Chad's lips as he observed the red, already swelling ankle that greeted him.

"Is it bad?" Flea asked, hovering over Chad's shoulder.

"Hell yeah!" Anthony replied through closed teeth. Tears lined his bottom eyelashes.

Chad touched the swelling ankle; it was conducting heat. "It's at least sprained, if not broken," he announced. Glancing at Anthony, he found his friend wincing. "Can you move it?"

Anthony's jawbone jutted out; his eyes clenched shut. His toes stretched, and his foot jerked.

"Don't think it's broken," Chad commented, reaching for the ankle.

"Can you not touch it again?" Anthony leaned his head against the rock.

Chad sighed. "It's going to have to be wrapped. Looks like you guys get to see another one of my medical specialties." He cracked an empty smile.

John and Flea stepped back as Chad went for his bag.

"Hey Chad?" Flea stood behind him. "I've got an Ace bandage on my knee, if that would help."

Chad looked up. "Yeah, that WOULD help! Thanks!"

Flea rolled up his right pant leg and unwound the wide beige cloth wrapped around it. Chad took the bandage from Flea and laid it across the top of Anthony's foot. He wrapped it around the foot, then around the ankle, and back around the foot. He continued with this figure eight pattern until a few inches of bandage remained. He held the end in place with metal clips. Then looked up at Anthony. The injured Chili Pepper's head faced skyward, his dark eyes squinting. He swallowed hard.

"Thanks, man!" he breathed. His hand extended toward his bag.

"What do you need?" John asked, wanting badly to be of use.

"My water," Anthony panted, his eyes closing.

John unlatched the buckle on Anthony's frame pack, and he dug a hand around inside. Camera, flashlight, trail mix...

"Here it is," John announced as his fingers wrapped around the plastic bottle. He pulled it out and handed it to his friend.

Breathing heavy, Anthony loosened the bottle top and threw back half the water in one shot. The others watched him gulp it down. He sighed as he drew the bottle away from his lips and glanced at the three who were staring at him.

"Well, this sucks," he commented. "How the hell are we going to finish the trail?"

"We're not," Chad replied, sitting down beside him. "We can't hike two more days."

Anthony heaved a sigh. "Damn it!" He gazed at Flea. "Sorry, buddy. This time, it's my fault."

John raised an eyebrow. "What the hell are you talking about?"

Laughing, Flea shook his head. "Anthony and I have hiked this damn trail three times now, and we've never finished. The first time was with Hillel."

"Yeah, back in high school," Anthony added with a smile. "Hillel and Flea got poison ivy and were miserable. That was only after the first day."

"The second time," Flea chimed in, "it was just the two of us, and we ran out of water..."

Anthony laughed. "We had to f***ing ladle water out of puddles!"

"Then we got sick on the water, 'cause we didn't have any way to purify it. We weren't getting anywhere, so we quit."

Furrowing his eyebrows, Anthony asked, "Was that the time we ended up hanging around in that fishing village?"

"Yeah!" Flea chuckled. "We were walking around, me with a green mohawk, Anthony with long hair, all in braids. I think we scared the locals!"

Anthony laughed, but his smile faded when his eyes rested on his ankle. "This still sucks. We were supposed to go white water rafting next week too!"

He hissed through his teeth, and the four fell silent.

"So what should we do?" Anthony asked.

Chad shook his head. "We're not getting down this mountain tonight. It took us more than half a day to get up it." He glanced at his watch. "And it's three-thirty now. What if we hike for another hour, then set up camp wherever looks good." He turned to Anthony, eyebrows raised. "Do you think you're up for that?"

Anthony's ankle throbbed beneath the bandage. His back rested comfortably against the rock, his head enjoying its support.

"Yeah, I'm up to it," Anthony replied. Flea wrapped his arms under Anthony's and pulled him to his feet. Anthony held onto Flea's shoulders, steadying himself on his good foot. John slipped his arm around Anthony, who shifted his weight to lean equally on his two friends. He flung an arm around John.

"Okay," Anthony breathed, gazing at Chad through squinting eyes. "Let's go."

Anthony led the way, leaning heavily into John every time he stepped down with his left foot. Chad followed just behind the three.

They left the clearing, unaware that Anthony's frame pack still rested against the rock incline.


	3. Chapter 3

Stars speckled the midnight sky, framed by towering trees. Flea stared up at them, wondering if any of the stars were actually planets. Each twinkled of its own accord, at different intervals, a light show not only for him but for anyone who would appreciate it.

A heavy sigh came from Flea's left. He turned and saw Anthony lying on the ground. He was huddled beneath his flannel shirt, which he used as a blanket. He hugged his knees to his chest with goosebump-speckled arms.

Flea's fingers were wrapped around the opening of his down sleeping bag. The feathers within the fabric insulated him, disallowing his body heat to escape during the night.

Anthony coughed. His eyelids fluttered as he clutched the flannel shirt closer to his body. He shivered.

His eyes steady on Anthony, Flea slipped out of his sleeping bag. He unzipped the side and rolled his friend into it, careful of the injured ankle. As he pulled the zipper shut, Anthony's eyes flickered open. He grinned.

"Thanks, buddy!"

Flea smiled back. Anthony's eyelids drooped but his lips remained upturned.

Flea curled up in a ball and gazed past his friend. Nestled in his own sleeping bag, John lay on his back. Strands of thick, black hair hung over his face, across his open mouth. Flea could hear John's breathing from where he lay.

Glancing over John, Flea saw a rolled out, crumpled sleeping bag.

'Maybe nature called,' Flea reasoned with himself. He waited, staring at the unoccupied sleeping bag. Crickets chirped. John groaned. Anthony began to snore. No other sound. No movement.

Rolling onto his knees, Flea got to his feet. He wandered toward the sleeping bag and heard a rustling from the darkness beyond.

"Chad?" his voice cracked. He swallowed hard. He braved a step forward. A tree beyond the sleeping bag came into focus; a silhouette knelt by it.

"Shhh!" Chad hissed, looking up from his frame pack. "Don't wake the others," he whispered and turned back to his bag.

"What are you doing?" Flea breathed, crouching beside his friend.

"Getting my water filter," Chad replied. "I'm going to get us some water."

"Why now?"

Chad retrieved the filter and stood up. Shrugging, he said, "Because we need it. Besides, I can't sleep."

Flea rose to his feet.

"Wanna go with me?"

"All right."

"We should grab John's water bottle," Chad held up the two bottles he was holding in his left hand. "I've got an extra for Anthony."

Flea dropped to John's side and saw the shadow of a frame pack laying at his friend's feet. He reached into the open bag and rummaged around. John gasped. His entire body jerked, and he jutted out his right foot, kicking Flea square in the chin. Flea fell on his backside.

"Damn!" he hissed, rubbing his chin. His other hand was still in the pack. His fingers glided over the surface of something fuzzy, and he pulled it out. Two beady eyes, a button nose, and a stitched smile greeted Flea as he came face to face with a stuffed bear.

"I am not asking," Flea muttered to himself. He lay the bear on John's chest, over the hands folded there, and went back to digging. John had to have at least four T-shirts in this bag; Flea's fingers kept running along cloth. He had to look into the bag to track the water bottle. He found it.

Sighing with relief, Flea gazed back at his friend. John was now cuddling the stuffed toy, a contented smile spanning across his face. John looked like such a little boy that Flea felt old. He shook his head and got to his feet.

Chad stood at the edge of the clearing, until Flea joined him. The two stepped into the woods.

The night wore on. Hours passed. Slowly, daytime sky faded in, as the sun peaked over the tree line. Beams of light shone over the clearing, where Anthony and John slept. And where Flea and Chad's packs and sleeping bags lay, abandoned by their owners.


	4. Chapter 4

"Um... John?"

"Mmm!" John furrowed his eyebrows and rolled away from the voice.

"John, where the hell did that come from?"

John cuddled his worn, tawny stuffed bear. His eyes fluttered open, and he saw Anthony staring at him from where he sat in a sleeping bag. John sat up. Shocks of his dark hair lay in tangled masses on his shoulders. The right side of his face sported creases.

"Mmm?" he squinted at Anthony, still clutching his bear. He wobbled where he sat.

"You know what? Never mind," Anthony held up his hands.

"Mmm," John replied as he sank back into his sleeping bag. He buried his chin into the back of the stuffed bear's head and heaved a sigh.

Anthony yawned. He clutched his sleeping bag closer to himself...

No, not his. Flea's. He now recalled awakening in the middle of the night to Flea's bundling Anthony in his own sleeping bag.

"Flea?" he glanced over John, spotting a forest green sleeping bag. "Chad?"

"Muffy," John murmured, his eyes still shut. A smile spread across his face, and he kissed his teddy bear.

Anthony rolled onto his right knee. Dragging his injured foot, he managed to crawl one-legged to John's side. He hovered over his sleeping friend.

"John?"

"Mmm!" John's eyebrows furrowed, and he rolled over, still clinging to his teddy.

"John!' Anthony nudged John's shoulder gently. A hand reached out and smacked the inside of Anthony's elbows. The arms supporting him gave way, and he toppled into John.

"Damn it!" He exclaimed as his injured foot dashed against the ground.

John's eyelids fluttered open. Dark eyes squinted over the stuffed bear's head, gazing at the man lying on his chest. Anthony rolled off his friend and lay on his back on the ground.

John scratched his head and yawned. "What's going on?" Glancing into Anthony's watery eyes, he sat up straight and exclaimed, "Sh**! What happened?"

"Never mind," Anthony's voice was strained. He blinked a few times before sitting up. "Have you seen Chad and Flea?"

John shook his head. His sight wandered to his lap. His eyes widened, and he stuffed the teddy bear back into his frame pack. "No, I haven't seen them," he replied, closing the bag's top flap.

"Where the hell do you think they could have gone?"

John shrugged. Sleep lingered in his eyes. He rubbed the knuckles of his index fingers into them. And yawned. Drawing his hand to his lap, John's vision rested upon Anthony's ankle. "Holy sh**!"

"What?" Anthony glanced at his feet. His left ankle was three times larger than his right. Red, purple, and black hues covered the top of his left foot; most likely, more bruises hid beneath the Ace. "Well those are pretty colours." He cracked a smile.

"Chad was wrong then," John voiced, his eyes wide.

Anthony shook his head. "What? You think it's broken? It's just bruised. That's all."

"There's a f***ing bone sticking out!"

Planting a hand into the dust to his left, Anthony leaned to that side. Sure enough, a distinct bump shot out by his ankle bone.

"Aw, f***!" he hissed through his teeth and sighed. "Should we unwrap it?"

Wincing, John replied, "I don't think that's a good idea. Why don't we wait for Chad to get back. Wonder where the hell they went off to." John was still staring at Anthony's ankle. "Is there anything I can do for you?"

"Got any water?"

John smiled. "I have some left over from yesterday. Hold on." John opened his bag and rummaged around inside. His hand kept running along cloth. Minutes passed.

"Motherf***er!" John exclaimed, tossing a T-shirt from the bag. He threw out his stuffed bear, another T-shirt, a pair of shorts, flashlight, a third T-shirt. "Where the hell is it?" A mess kit clattered to the ground, a compass on top of it, journal, sketch pad, bag of trail mix.

John sat back in his sleeping bag and ran his arm across his forehead. "I... I don't get it," he panted, shaking his head. "I packed the f***ing thing! I didn't leave it anywhere!" John sighed. Glancing around the clearing, John got to his feet. His sleeping bag slipped off his body and crumpled to the ground. "Maybe Chad or Flea left their water bottles!" John slid to his knees in front of Flea's frame pack.

Soon the contents of all three bags cluttered the clearing, and the two men sat in the middle of the chaos. John buried his head in his hands.

"We have no f***ing water," he spoke, "and no f***ing idea where Chad and Flea are."

Anthony rubbed the bridge of his nose and sighed.


	5. Chapter 5

Flea stepped into the clearing, Chad trailing him. He spotted Anthony, sitting on his sleeping bag, against a tree.

Anthony glanced up from the dirt, where he had been drawing designs with a stick. "Where the hell have you guys been?" he scowled, returning his gaze to the dust.

Chad held up two water bottles in one hand. "Getting water!"

"And it took you all morning?"

Flea flopped down beside Anthony. "We lost sight of the trail. You thirsty?"

"Hell yeah!"

Chad tossed him a bottle, which Anthony promptly caught. He unscrewed the top and gulped down the water. Streams of life-giving liquid trickled down his jaw and splashed onto his drawings. A soft sigh escaped his lips when he lowered the plastic container.

Flea glanced around. "Where’s John?"

"He went to get us some water," Anthony replied, clutching the bottle to his bare chest. "He was going out of his mind waiting."

Chad rubbed his stomach. "I don’t know about you two, but I’m starved! Flea and I haven’t eaten all day."

"I could go for some food," Anthony replied.

Chad retrieved a box of macaroni and cheese from his bag. Then he and Flea gathered branches and twigs, and the two made a fire. Anthony huddled by it and watched Chad pull a small aluminum pot out of his bag. Flea grabbed a little metal rack from his and set it over the fire.

Soon the three were devouring their meals. Flea glanced at the pot, which still held a serving. He hoped that John hadn’t gotten lost.

"Aaaahh!"

The blood-curdling scream emanated from the woods. The three paused, each holding a spoonful of food.

"That sounded like John," Anthony’s eyes were wide as he gazed into the surrounding woods.

Flea and Chad dropped their bowls and leapt to their feet. They raced into the woods. Leaves swished past Flea’s shoulders, and he shoved branches out of his path.

"Aaaahh!"

They followed their friend’s cries to a fork in the path, where a wolf stood. Blood ran from its snarling fangs, and he growled. He darted into the woods.

A figure staggered by a tree beside the trail, retching and clutching his midsection. He fell to the ground.

As Flea strode closer, the figure’s face came into view. Blood, tears, and hair streaked the tensioned face, mouth open, and coughing up blood.

"John!" Flea skid on his knees to his friend’s side. He brushed the hair out of the fallen’s dark eyes. Flea’s sights fell to the blood drenched hands that John held to his abdomen. His eyes wide, he gazed up at Flea. Gasping and shivering, he flopped forward, into Flea’s lap. He shook violently for several seconds before lying still.

Tears flowed down Flea’s cheeks as he turned the inanimate body in his lap. John’s face was relaxed now. The hand that had been clenching the injury flopped from John’s abdomen and swayed limply by his side. The skin was cold. Flea ran his fingers against the carotid artery in John’s neck. No pulse.

"No!" Flea cried, staring at his friend’s closed eyes.

"Flea!" Chad shook his shoulders, and Flea jerked. Through clouded vision, he saw Chad kneeling over him. He was lying on the ground. Flea wiped his eyes and sat up. The land was dark, much darker than it had been in his dream. And very cold.

Wrapping his arms around his torso, Flea looked around. It was just he and Chad. Trees surrounded them, grass beneath them, frigid winds embraced them. No trail.

"We’re still lost," he murmured. He gazed at Chad, who sat back on his heels.

"Yeah? No sh**!" Chad replied, cracking a smile. "Are you all right?"

Flea sniffled and ran his forearm across his nose. Slowly, he nodded. "Yeah, just a little cold." He crossed his arms over his bare chest.

"I think we can take care of that," Chad grinned. "I just found a cave."

"Really? Where?"

"Not far. Come on!"

Chad gave Flea a hand to his feet, and the two men ventured through the trees. The new moon illuminated a clearing up ahead, where a cave came into view. The two slipped inside. They dozed off right away, unaware that they weren’t the only ones sleeping there.


	6. Chapter 6

Hours of the night wore on, and the rays of the sun began trickling into the cave. A deep grunt resounded off the rock walls.

Chad’s eyelids fluttered. "Dammit, Flea!" he muttered and yawned. "You’re just as bad as Anthony!"

A guttural growl replied, and Chad’s eyelids flew open. A large, furry shadow paced by the entrance of the cave.

"Holy sh**!" Chad breathed and turned to his sleeping friend. "Flea!" he hissed. "Flea!"

"Mmm!" Flea rolled toward Chad and opened his eyes. Through blurry vision, he recognised the same furry silhouette. "A bear!" he exclaimed. The creature turned toward the pair. It got up on its hind legs and growled.

Chad noticed a stick by his foot. He picked it up and waved it at the approaching bear.

"Chad, don’t!" Flea reached for the stick, but Chad sidestepped from him. The bear sneered as it plodded toward Chad, baring its fangs. He stepped away from the bear, and his back hit against the stone wall. The creature’s hot breath whooshed past his ears, and it raised a front paw. And swiped it across its opponent’s face.

"Aah!" Chad cried as he stumbled to his knees. His hand ran over his left cheek and felt three swelling stripes. Blood seeped through his fingers. He gazed up at the bear towering over him. It snarled.

"Hey!"

The bear turned toward the voice and cried out. It bounded at Flea.


	7. Chapter 7

The clearing was quiet as the sun ascended over the trees. Anthony shifted in Flea’s sleeping bag. Smiling in slumber, he clutched John’s stuffed bear, a soft sigh escaping his lips. The two sleeping bags beside him lay empty.

Several feet away, a figure sat in lotus position. His eyes were closed, his right hand lay upon the left and rested where his legs crossed. He observed the breath. Breathing in, he received oxygen from surrounding plant life, accepting into himself all that he could take into his lungs from nature. Breathing out, he gave life to his environment, rejecting all that was artificial. His mind only on breathing. His mind at peace.

The sun bathed him, warming his flesh. And he smiled.

A rustling came from the woods. John opened his eyes and glanced over his shoulder. As soon as his concentration was broken, he felt thirsty, fatigued, and cold. He got to his feet and wandered toward his sleeping bag, his arms embracing his torso.

He slipped into his sleeping bag, and Anthony’s eyes opened. Wide. He gasped. John raised an eyebrow at his friend.

"A... a bear!" Anthony breathed. He dropped the stuffed toy. His arms fell to his sides, and he scooted away from John.

John picked up his stuffed animal and shoved it back into his bag. He had no idea why Anthony was freaking out over it.

"No," Anthony whispered, raising a shaky finger. "Behind you."

John glanced over his shoulder, wondering what Anthony was hallucinating over now. The outline of a large animal shuffled in the woods. John’s eyes bugged out.

"Sh**! We’ve got to get out of here!" He slipped his right arm under Anthony’s legs. "Grab my neck!"

Anthony flung his arms around his friend’s neck, and John lifted him from the ground. Adrenaline surged through his body as he ran with Anthony, into the woods.

"Wait!" Flea’s voice yelled.

John halted and turned. The bear wandered into the camp...

With Flea and Chad on its back.

John’s mouth dropped open. His fingers loosened, and Anthony fell to the ground.

"F***!" Anthony exclaimed, still staring at his friends riding the bear. "How the hell did you manage that?"

Flea smiled. "If you love something, it can never hurt you," he replied, running his fingers over the bear’s fur. "He led us here. Are you guys okay?"

John and Anthony nodded.

"Nobody’s dehydrated?"

"John found us some water yesterday," Anthony replied. "And he had some iodine tablets to purify it." He looked beyond Flea. "Chad! ‘the hell happened?"

Chad grimaced. Rubbing his scratched cheek, he said, "I had a misunderstanding with the bear."

Anthony glanced at John, who still stood stunned, before gazing back at Flea and Chad. "This is insane. You realise that."

Chad slid off the bear’s back. "Just don’t question it. Come on! The bear can take us back to civilisation." He lifted Anthony from the ground and set him on the bear’s back. He and John gathered all their junk and packed it back into the bags. They passed two of the packs to Anthony and Flea, who slipped them on. Chad put on the third one, and he and John climbed onto the bear’s back.

As soon as all four Chili Peppers were settled, the animal set off down the mountain trail.

Anthony hung onto Flea’s waist and smiled. "You know," he said, "nobody’s ever going to believe this."

Shrugging, Flea glanced over his shoulder and grinned. "Nobody needs to believe."

Anthony rested his head against the cushy frame pack on his friend’s back and drifted off to sleep.

THE END


End file.
